


lovers' quarrel.

by orphan_account



Series: tumblr requests. [119]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, M/M, Short One Shot, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Could you possibly write some McHarrison where they keep bickering about silly, meaningless things, but even when they’re “arguing,” it’s still obvious how much they care about each other?”
Relationships: George Harrison/Paul McCartney
Series: tumblr requests. [119]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1336198
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	lovers' quarrel.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm alive!!! i'm aliiiive!!

1964,

“I can’t eat this shite! It’s inedible!”

“C’mon, Hazza, that’s not true,” Paul muttered through a sigh, fighting the fighting urge to yell and kick like a petulant child. Like how George was acting, Really, who pissed in his cereal that morning? His boyfriend sat on a chair that had left its best days long behind it, staring down hard on a dish of… something. Paul wasn’t sure- something incredibly French and snotty sounding. It had tasted great when Paul had eaten his own portion of the dish; mouth full while attempting to get George to take just a single bite. 

It must truly have been a tumble out of bed that morning for George to lose his (seemingly) constant hunger, his daring feats in eating new and untried dishes and his otherwise typical cool temper. Paul had half a mind to hunt down John, the current roommate of George in the hotel they had found themselves in that morning, to see if he had come with some rude mark about his boyfriend and his eating habits. John could be absolutely ruthless when he was in any way upset, (which happened often in the early mornings. None of them were particularly eager to get up before noon).

“This is ridiculous- you have to eat!”

Paul was beginning to worry about this mood George was in, despite their mutual yelling. Paul couldn’t remember when last he had seen George eating; not that it was something he particularly kept an eye on, but when he racked his brain for the last time he did- it came up empty of any pictures of George stuffing himself as he tended to do- eating like it was his last meal. 

Further yelling commenced- neither seemed willing, or able, to stop themselves. Going from George’s stance on the food that day to something completely else that seemed all too random but all too enticing to let go. Paul made tea while yelling about the purpose of their tour- for George’s hands had been cold when he held them on their way to their room (their energetic discussion now hushed as so not to disturb anyone nearby). George rubbing Paul’s knuckles as they sat on the hard couch in their hotel rooms- his bass had been exceptionally tiresome that day, prickling his fingers in a way that unusual and only adding to the stress of a day on tour. Eventually they grew tired to say anything, to do anything other than fall back on the single beds pushed together- still dressed in their proper uniforms, hands still joined together.


End file.
